


Lurking Variable

by Japheth



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Gen, Mystery, yeehaw - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5290277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Japheth/pseuds/Japheth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A child with a cowboy hat and delusions to becoming a sheriff decides to stay with an old goat rather than staking it out on their own. Big consequences follow. </p><p>AU where the Sixth Human, the Yellow Soul, stays with Toriel instead of proceeding onwards into the rest of the Undertale. When Frisk arrives in the underground, they have some help, though considering its form they might not want it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Decision

You always liked the idea of a sheriff.

Not just because they were heroes, but what they represented. Even if you’re only eleven, the ideal of justice has always been present in your mind. The justice of for kids at school, what justice you didn’t get in your home life, and what you should have received. Of course, the ideal of justice was always just that for you; only in your fantasies could you imagine some sort of perfect world where justice prevailed over the unfairness in your life.

There was always a lot of it. A mother disinterested, a father who tried to do his best but failed time and time again. You left for that reason; it simply wasn’t just to have to deal with all of that. You knew they had responsibility over you, and the right over you, but you figured that wasn’t just either. You knew, though, that no one was going to be on your side if you ran; the police, who were supposed to be just, would catch you, and bring you back home. How was that fair, though? Maybe if you were lucky they’d take you to some foster service and drop you there, but you didn’t have a choice. You couldn’t pick out your foster family from a line arranged for you, and it would never really be the same.

It just simply wasn’t fair.

The contrast with the sheriff of the old west was stark for you. He had the badge, he had a gun, and he had the hat. The badge symbolized the authority he had that was official, that he was not just a vigilante. The hat symbolized the authority that he had that was personal; that he knew everyone in the frontier town, that he was the kind of guy who could get people to listen to him simply because of how much they trusted his justice. The gun…it represented his last resort, the type of thing you use when you need to, and there’s times when you need to use it. Justice isn’t just talking to people, it’s punishing people when they are unjust.

The sheriff embodied something else, too, though; he was independence. There was no mom or dad for the sheriff, any local police or judge; he was the personification of justice for his town. In the wilderness, between the Native Americans (which it wasn’t really fair that they were treated that way, but the sheriff didn’t choose that), and the banditos of the Wild West, the sheriff was the unmistakable symbol of justice for the people of his town. He alone laid down the law, and decided what to do, and what not to do.

He was his own man. So when you got the opportunity, you took that old hat, and that old antique gun your grandpa gave you, and made yourself a badge. You were the sheriff, and Mount Ebott would be your frontier. So what if the kids never came back from the mountain? It would be your personal domain, precisely because of that. The frontier of your own creation, your own rulership. You packed enough chips for weeks, and enough games to pass the time if you needed to, but this would be your own world where you could do what you want.

That plan fell through, quite literally. You fell down the hole as you staked out a place to camp, and then encountered a talking flower at the bottom of the hole, but you avoided the weird thing. It gave you the creeps, and you needed to figure out your gameplan. As you explored your new domain, you began to realize why no kids had ever come back; there was a totally different world here, under the mountain, and of course they wouldn’t ever leave. Who would if given the chance? This was like a Neverland of your own imagination, complete with magic and monsters and talking flowers, even if they were a bit creepy.

Your first encounter with one of these monsters was a giant frog that walked up to you; immediately you felt a strange sensation as if you were having an out of body experience. You imagined yourself, perhaps even _saw_ yourself, as a little yellow heart, and you had to avoid the thing’s attacks. You managed to persist and avoid the over-sized amphibian, though you weren’t really sure how to counter it. In the end, you tried to impose the law on the toad, and in a moment of exhilaration for you, it accepted your authority as a sheriff.

From then on you were grinning like an animal, and you ordered the frog to stop attacking people. It seemed to understand you, and now you could really yelp in excitement. This was way different than you had imagined. This wasn’t just a personal domain of a little mountain forest; this whole world could be yours to command, and to distribute justice and punishment as you had to. It was your frontier; it was your wild west. You teared up a bit at this revelation, but then developed new resolve and put your foot down on any crybaby nonsense. You were the sheriff of the underground, and you would put your foot down for the monsters. If they didn’t listen…then you’d put it on top of them. It was only fair.

Your next encounter with the untamed locals was a training dummy you found on your wandering through the underground caverns. You figured out some of the puzzles; they weren’t much trouble to someone with an eye for detail like yourself, and then found the dummy room. This was a perfect opportunity for you to practice your lasso.

You prepped the rope you had brought with you (might have been useful in getting out if you had just paid attention, you dork!) and tied it carefully like you saw in the movies. Then you threw it.

* * *

The lasso landed three feet away from you.

You tried it again, and this time it was five feet. Making progress, OK. You were at least filled with some determination to get this dummy tied up and corralled. It was disobeying your authority as the sheriff by being such a…dummy. You didn’t really know, to be honest you were just having some fun. You threw the lasso over and over again. After a while, you felt like someone was watching you, but it didn’t matter to you. The determination you got from trying to lasso this dummy…it was like something else. Maybe it was the magic of the underground? Some connection to the sensation you felt when fighting the frog? Eventually, you did it. The dummy was lassoed, and you pulled it over, putting your boot over it and lecturing it on being a good dummy that listens to the orders of the sheriff.

Then you heard a sound coming from outside the room, and you drew your weapon (fastest draw in the underground!). You had the gun pointed and ready, but lowered it a tiny bit when you saw what came out the door. It was some…goat…woman…monster…thing. You weren’t really sure. The monster put her hands up at the sight of your weapon, which you liked. She was being deferential to your authority, which is always a good sign that you’re doing a good job as sheriff. She introduced herself as Toriel, guardian of these ruins or something or other. You had to interject at that. 

“Sorry, I’m the sheriff around these parts.” You take extra care to put a bit of western invective into your vocabulary. Proper sheriffs sound that way. She just gives you a kind of…smile?

“Oh…I’m sorry, I didn’t know!” Woah! The goat-woma-Toriel, is actually listening to you! This is great. You’re a great sheriff. Yeah.

“Yeah…yeah, that’s right.”

You lower your weapon, and then you release a sigh of exhaustion. You’ve been walking for hours, and all you have with you is your corduroy shirt, your jeans, your heavy backpack, and your boots. It was cold when it was night outside and now that you’re down here it’s getting too warm. You’re just…bushed. A sheriff needs his rest.

 “Do you have anywhere I can stay…pardner?” You offer, adding the last part with what you think is a manly wink. You have to impress all the damsels out here, after all, even if this one reminds you of a nice grandma more than a frontier girl. Also the wink hurt your eye and you have to scratch it because you might have gotten an eyelash on there.

She keeps that smile on, and you have to admit it’s disarming, literally- you put your pistol away and yawn dramatically. Toriel (nice name…like some fantasy character!) offers her hand to you, and after some initial reluctance you take it. After a long day’s work, a sheriff needs some rest and relaxation, and you admit some initial panic when you fell. It’s nothing that a sheriff can’t fix, though, and you’ll just have to get better.

She walks you through a lot of the puzzles here, and even does some weird theatrical thing where she hides behind a pillar and you have to display your independence. You quickly point out where she is, and that as a sheriff you can survive on your own. Somehow, that particular sentence sets her off a bit, and she’s noticeably more nervous afterwards. You’re not entirely sure what her deal is, but you decide to let it slide. She leads you to her house, a nice little place compared to the rest of the ruins, and you can finally sit down after a long day. She walks over to the kitchen and you feel inclined to follow her, even if you’re kind of sketchy about her calling you “my child” instead of “sheriff”.

You take a seat at the nice dining room table while she slides down onto a big chair that’s her size. You realize just how big she is at this point, and start to think that it might be best to keep your sheriffing to the hat part of justice rather than the gun part.

After a few moments of quiet she suddenly strikes up a conversation.

“Tell me my child, what is your favorite pie flavor? Butterscotch or cinnamon?” That one gives you pause, a real mindbender. So many possibilities flow by in your mind and in the end you choose butterscotch. Then you go to bed (without her permission, as befits a sheriff!) and when you wake up there’s a piece of pie that’s absolutely delicious.

When you put your hat back on after one of the best naps you’ve ever had, and wander back into the dining room, you ask her a couple of questions about the underground, and the outside world, and moving about, and everything like that. Her answers, though…you start to feel a bit uncomfortable. She starts talking about your curriculum and your education and how you’ll do all these things together, and that’s when it hits you.

This is just another old person trying to subvert justice and take you in. Another person you really can’t trust. Another…another jailor. You have to put your foot down now, so you interrupt her.

“No.” She immediately stops talking about how she’ll prepare your education for the next six months and her face drops.

“What?”

You shake your head emphatically. “D-don’t do that. Don’t…don’t order me around. I’m the…Sheriff.” You raise your voice at the last part of the sentence and tap your badge. Time to exert your authority. To your exasperation, she just gets _more_ motherly. It’s unbearable as she tells you the dealbreaker.

“I know what’s best for you, my child. You cannot comprehend what is out there.” That’s _it_. The clincher, the thing that adults always say. They know what’s best for you, but that’s not justice. Whoever heard of a law code that had people be slaves to other people? But that’s childhood for you, and you don’t want it. You didn’t run away from home, you didn’t leave behind you friends, just for this.

It’s not entirely fair to her, a part of you says, but you pack that away. Yes, she’s nicer to you than your parents ever were, yes, the pie was one of the best things you’ve ever eaten, but there’s a line to be drawn and she doesn’t seem to want to have it drawn. A sheriff is decisive; he knows when to stop things, even when good people are doing something they don’t realize is bad. There’s only one option here, and that’s to send a sort of message that you won’t tolerate this, and that you’ll get going now, and thank you very much for the pie but I am the sheriff of the underground, not some tike to be ordered around.

Something immediately comes into your mind; you noticed how nervous she was when you asked to explore downstairs. You decide that might be the way out, so you shrug your shoulders, the same thing you would do with your parents, zip up your backpack, and then start walking. You know her eyes are bearing down on you, and then she’s up, and it’s intimidating to have to face so much bigger than you, but you’re adamant, and she can tell. The glint in your eyes, that’s pure determination.

You start walking down the stairs, and then she stops you at the bottom. It’s all the usual adult arguments.

“Don’t go, you foolish child.”

“Naive child, you do not know what you are facing!”

“You won’t be able to fight what’s out there!”

You can and you will, you’re the sheriff, you’re the man who’ll bring order and justice and keep away from any adults and survive and lasso all the dummies of the world. You’ll be the big hero, and you’ll be able to be everything that a sheriff is, the embodiment of justice-

“You’ll die.”                                                                                                                                                          

That gives you pause. It gives you pause in two ways; in the first because of just the content there. No adult has ever told you that earnestly. Oh, you might get hurt, you might do this and that, but never _you’ll die_. Death is scary and the sort of thing that you think about when you’re listening to howls late at night climbing up Mount Ebott and thinking that you might have made a mistake. It’s not- it’s not what adults are supposed to say. They always try to scare you, but rarely do they…do they mean it.

The other part is the ways she says it. It’s…it’s not the usual contemptuous voice she was using, that she can presume to order you. It’s…it’s sadness. The kind of hoarse voice you would sometimes use when you were screaming into your pillow after a fight or when you got in trouble at school. It’s not…the voice that adults are supposed to use. Even this, though, might not be enough to sway you, but you feel something break in your mind- not really a memory, but some sort of impulse. Almost like a hand knocking your head back on right.

You turn back. She says it again, more firmly.

“You’ll die, my child. You are…the sixth child, to come through here.” Now she has your attention. You loosen the iron grip you had on your backpack straps and turn fully to face her. She’s kneeling now, face to face with you.

“What do you mean? W-“ You stop yourself from stuttering. That’s what babies did. “What happened to them?” Firm and calm, good. A real calm sheriff, even if you involuntarily bit your tongue when you started talking and your knees are a bit weaker than usual.  

“The other children…have all passed on. They…Asgore. He is killing any humans that he can find and collecting their souls. If you leave the ruins, I will not be able to protect you. You will die.” You feel a punch to the gut. This isn’t what you wanted. If you leave, you’ll die, and if you stay, you’ll…you’ll be trapped here. You look up at her, and tears are streaming from her eyes. Five children. Wow. And you figure that each of them…each of them passed through here, and didn’t listen to her.

“And if I stay…?” You keep that part lingering in your own indecision. You aren’t really sure, yet, but she seems nice enough. If she lets you explore the ruins, if she lets you be independent within reason, if she…if she keeps you safe, that would be OK. You could live with that. She clearly can, too, and her smile then, through the tears, makes you a lot more comfortable.

“I will take care of you and make you as many butterscotch pies as you want.” The offer is tempting, and in the end you yield to her pastry diplomacy.

“OK.” Is all you can muster. You look down, defeated. One day in and your vision of surviving by yourself has already collapsed. One day in and you’re looking to older people, even if they’re monster goat older people, to take care of you. The sheriff has put up his hat and put away his badge, and become the ki-

She pulls you into a sudden embrace, one you’re totally unexpected for. Her fur, which you thought might be firm and coarse, actually feels pretty nice, and the way she hugs you…you never got that before. That’s not…what adults are for. They try to impose order on you, not comfort you. That’s…ridiculous.

Eventually, you hug her back, and she takes you back upstairs, and you can tell the relief on her face, as if to say that maybe this one will be different. It’s…hard to accept your own defeat, but with each day it becomes easier to swallow. You’ll stay here, and become a better sheriff, and figure things out.

And eat butterscotch pie, of course.


	2. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sheriff gets an assignment.

The nightmares recur for a while. Then you decide that nightmares are too clichéd, and after that they seem to stop. The sheriff of the underground wins again, though in this case you’re not entirely sure why. You explain the sensation to Toriel, that you felt as though you were able to order yourself to stop having nightmares, but she just tilts her head from her book by the fireplace and quirks an eyebrow. It’s not a sign of confidence, and you decide to drop it in favor of keeping a written record of what you remember your nightmares were with a notebook. Well, you might still have them but you don't really focus on it. 

Mostly, they’re just the sort of distorted stuff you got in old nightmares before you fell, but now it’s interspersed with a repeating image. You’re alone; you’re in a garbage dump. There are loud footsteps behind you…you’re bleeding. You initiate a fight with a shadowy figure clad in black armor, you lose. You die. That’s it. Then rinse and repeat the process, over and over again. Walk in the garbage dump, turn around, fight, die. At first the dream itself concerned you, but after the first few times it was the repetitive nature. When something is repeated so often, it becomes convincing. You develop a fear of garbage dumps and black armor.

It’s only natural.

You’ve been with Toriel for a year now, and it’s driving you a bit insane, but whenever you get the inclination to leave, you get a reminder in your head of what she said, and why you probably shouldn’t bother leaving because you’ll just die. The dreams enforce the point; if you never go to the garbage dump and face the figure clad in black armor (as you learn from questioning Toriel, they are likely a member of the royal guard) then you’ll never have to deal with it. You’re a sheriff, and you’ve been given fair warning of the problems ahead of you. It would defeat the point of justice to ignore the warnings of being punished for something like that.

To preoccupy your time, you make maps for when you might have to leave. It’s been on your mind for a while, and you think that you’re ready to do it. The monsters of the ruins have helped you practice your dodging when you asked them, and even once or twice Toriel helped you, but always halfheartedly. What’s the point of practicing dodging when she purposely has her flames avoid you? A bit ridiculous, you think.

You get why, though. You’ve seen the shoes of the other children, even if she won’t talk about them. One day while wandering through the ruins (which you’ve made an extremely comprehensive map of), you found a blue ribbon. After figuring that it was probably from one of the past children, you decide it might be best to bury it. You have a froggit come over and help you with it, and then you have a long and luminous talk about the nature of death.

Nah, you and the frog practice your lasso. You’ve gotten really good at it, now, and it’s a good way to defuse a potential situation without anyone getting hurt. Also a good distraction if you need to get out of a situation quickly. For instance, if you’re wounded and being approached by a figure in black armor in a garbage dump.

…

Better not to think about it.

On this particular day, you’re busy checking some of the switches on the puzzles like Toriel told you to when you got up in the morning after breakfast. It’s good work, and you like being able to do something and manage the place. You’ve cleaned up some of the lead piles and made sure that the monsters listen to your authority when you tell them to do things; as you walk through the hallways you go through your checklist, reading each item out loud to yourself to make sure that no one’s unaccounted for. Your cowboy hat is resting comfortably on your head, your gun is at your side, and your boots make a click-clack on the cobblestone floor.

“Okay, let’s see. Separate Migosp and Loox, make sure no one’s picking on Loox. Check. Cheer up Whimsun…failed again.” Note to self: yelling at monsters to cheer up will not cheer them up. “Made sure that I ate a carrot in front of Vegetoid…check. Imitated Moldsmal, check. Complimented Froggit’s toady complexion, check. Okay, let’s just go fix the traps.”

You walk past a few rooms, make sure that the perspective switches are still working. Odd, they don’t seem to be. You switch them back on once you pass through, they make a satisfying clicking sound as the spikes pop back up-

Is that a yelping sound you just heard?

Darn it, a moldsmal might have been enjoying itself at one of the spikes! It’s a good thing you have the emergency pie slice in case one of the monsters get injured. A sheriff always comes prepared, after all, and although that emergency pie slice is also your emergency lunch, it’s important to make sure that everyone in the ruins is doing okay. Well, as okay as you can make them. You can’t help whimsun. Weird bug.

You take the emergency pie slice, still zip-locked, from your bag, and rush over to the nearest series of spikes. Huh. Nothing. That’s really odd. You put your hand to your chin thoughtfully without realizing you still have some moldsmal slime on your other hand from imitating them earlier. You consider that sometimes a bit of distance is ideal.

You do manage to spot a bit of movement, but it’s too far away for you to bother calling out. Figuring it’s probably some monster or another that you scared with the switch, you go back to your errands. After another hour or so, you finish everything up- and then you see that another trap is out of order. This is getting irritating for you. It’s time to get serious; a varmint is acting up. You adjust your hat to its law and order setting, tilting it slightly to give you that serious cowboy look. Yeah. That looks good.

You take a few minutes to adjust the hat a bit more, using your reflection in a nearby puddle as a guide. Okay. Now you’re looking good. Perfecto. Amazing. It’s a solid sheriff’s glare. It’s…it’s off a little bit.

* * *

 

You spend the next half an hour fixing your hat. Now you’re really serious- but you check your cellphone and realize that you’re a bit late. Also, Toriel has called you six times.

You have to rush home or else lunch will be setting puzzles. It’s a bit embarrassing to be so…domestic? That’s probably the right word. You’ve learned a lot of new words with Toriel, honestly, she’s a great teacher as much as you’d hate to admit it. Better than the ones you had, who were just the epitome of dull. The kind of people you wouldn’t mind not dealing with as sheriff if they had a problem. Yeah. Teachers are the worst.

Well, to be fair, you haven’t really had teachers for a while. It might be a bit weird of you to start ranting about them when you’re surrounding by monsters in a magical underground you didn’t know existed while wearing a cowboy outfit and acting as sheriff of the ruins.

You adjust your hat one more time and then you’re off to Toriel. You run past a few disturbed puzzles but you can deal with those later, and finally you reach the house. Huh, she’s not there to greet you. Might be reading a book or working on a crossword. Who knows? She’s not your _mom_ or anything like that.

You put your backpack down and go to the dining room. You’re about to holler at Toriel, sitting by the fire reading, about how sorry you are about everything, but she surprises you by putting a finger to her lips.

“Be quiet for now, Chief.” Okay, she’s calling you chief instead of my child. That’s a good sign, it means she recognizes your authority today. Sometimes when she’s being particularly motherly and under your skin she calls you “my child”, and you have to correct her. You never liked your actual name, and the underground was an opportunity to change it. Why not exude extra authority by having the name /Chief Sheriff/? It’s like you were made for being the hand of justice.

Anyways, back to reality. “Okay…” you whisper as quietly as you can and pull up a chair at the dining room table, untying the emergency pie slice’s wrapping. “So, why are we playing the quiet game? Am I in trouble again? You know that the sheriff doesn’t answer to any authority within the ruins. You have to speak to the president to tell me what to do.” You read that in a book once, yeah. That sounds about right. Although…you were never the best at history.

She shakes her head and tilts her snout a bit towards you, putting the book down with a big smile on her face. Not what you expected. “No, Chief, you’re not in trouble, and I do not have the authority to punish you, only to advise you on the just course of action.” Yeah, yeah, that’s the right words lady. Good. She must be in a good mood if she’s quoting your code of laws.  Feeling calmer, you stuff a bit of pie in your mouth as she elaborates.

“There’s another child, and they are fast asleep!”

You nearly choke on your pie. Of course she rises up from the chair to help you, but you put up a hand to stop her. Through sheer DETERMINATION, you manage to stop yourself from choking to death and ending the story in the second chapter. The pie doesn’t go down very well, but you only have a few coughs after that. Finally, you speak up, your brow creased and your eyes wide.

“Wait-another child?! But you didn’t look pregnant?” Can monsters even get pregnant? How do they have children? Are they like ferns where they release their eggs using spores which land and then make new monsters? Or do they carry them in pouches like kangaroos? You never noticed Toriel having a pouch but then again she’s always wearing that outfit so it’s quite possible that she has a birthing pouch. Alternatively, they lay eggs and she just laid her egg when you weren’t looking and then it hatched. Maybe it’s been hidden under your bed this whole time?!

…

You may have a problem.

By this time you realize that you’ve been silent for a good minute. Toriel is just staring at you and trying not to laugh, a blush on her face. She knows you enough that she’s aware you get these thought processes. Finally, she clears her throat.

“N-no. No my child, I didn’t have one, it’s another human!” Okay, that makes more sense than what you were thinking of. You log the images of marsupial Toriel away and hope they don’t come back later to haunt you. It’s a good thing that no one read your stream of thought right now or else this would be awkward.

“Another…human? Wait, are they sleeping in my room?” That violates your law code. This is obscene. You won’t have it. You rise up from your chair, and before she can stop you, you go and open the door to your room quietly, peeking inside. Sure enough, there’s a kid in there. Looks like a girl, around…nine years old? Yeah, about third grade or so. She’s wearing a striped shirt. Huh. She looks pretty peaceful lying on YOUR bed. This is some goldilocks grade scandal. Absolutely furious, you move silently to your table and take out a post-it-note that you’ve laboriously regulated with the standard form.

While you do that you wonder about the kid. Why did they come down here? After you've dispensed justice they might make a nice friend for you. It's been a while since you've had one of those, after all. Maybe you and they can go outside together? Surely Toriel wouldn't have a problem with two humans at a time, that would probably be enough. Then it could be like the lone ranger and his wise Native American companion, and they ride off into the sunset against the system and into the legends of the wild west. Yeah. That would be amazing. 

You fill out all the information. Name, dumb kid in my bed. Offense, being in my bed. Punishment, this post-it-note attached to their head. You take a piece of tape, and make sure that they’re still asleep. You secure the note to the top of their head and sneak out. Toriel gives you a strange look as you clearly haven’t woken them, but she isn’t aware of your particular brand of justice. Waking the first human you’ve ever met in the underground would be mean, but giving them a ticket? That’s perfect. Then you can gauge their reaction and pitch the test to them. 

* * *

 

You wait half an hour until they’re done their nap. You just sip your tea, sitting at the dining room table with your mouth curled ever so slightly upwards, and then you finish your tea and get up to go do your errands for the evening. It’s disappointing they’re not up yet but you’ll savor their reaction for when you come back. You give Toriel a goodbye and then walk out the front door, practically hopping as you leave. Justice is served. Passive-aggressive post-it-notes, the jails of the future. You’ve solved the crime problem.

You reset all the traps that the kid probably turned off as they were passing through. They were a real homewrecker, too, because these things can be a pain to deal with, and they didn’t even bother to turn them back on as they were leaving. You discussed getting automatically resetting puzzles with Toriel but she told you that she just doesn’t have that kind of money. Whether on the surface or the underground, you seem doomed to budget problems.

Then something gives you pause, when you spot a froggit hopping by…and they’re limping. You approach the oversized toad with a face of concern.

“Hey froggit, what’s up with your limp…?”

The monster croaks out a response. “(Attacked by the child…they did not listen to our instructions to talk to monsters instead of harm them…”)

Your face grows darker. Your hat is still in its serious positioning, and this sounds like more than just a bed ownership violation. This is something far more problematic. You look at the wound; it’s a bruise from getting punched. You still have some emergency pie left over, and you give it to the froggit. He’s looking better in moments, one of the wonders of monster food. If only pies on the surface could heal injuries.

After some more investigation you discover several monsters were hurt this way by the striped shirt girl. All describe it the same way; the kid approaches them nice and sweet, and then starts hitting them. Then they burst into tears and run away. This just…it’s the kind of thing that you did sometimes when you were younger, but on a much worse scale. If the kid had stayed and continued to fight them the monsters could have been turned to dust.

There’s no pie for that. You can’t even imagine the fear that might go through them as they just…disintegrate. When you first came here you watched one of them…fall, as it’s called. They get sick, or they’re old, and they just go stiff and comatose, then they turn to dust. The first time it happened, you and Toriel were too late and you just found a pile of dust, but the second time it was a Loox. They looked really bad, but Toriel said she knew someone who could help, the royal scientist (of course you had to stay out of sight when she helped the fallen monster get picked up). Hopefully now they’re doing a lot better.

So the fact that this kid…after being told that what being careless can do…is still running around and hurting monsters? That’s not okay. Then it hits you; you’ve _left_ the kid with Toriel. Who knows what they could do? You can tell that Toriel is a really strong monster, maybe one of the strongest, because she’s really hard to fight even when she’s holding back, but…she has a soft heart. She can be manipulated, and if this kid’s pretending to be sweet…then they could hurt her.

Then you’d have to deal with being alone again, and she’d be gone, and it’s just not something you want to think about.

You rush back home, the last few puzzles can wait. The front door’s open, not good, and she’s not answering her phone, also not that good. The place is empty, and your room is vacated. That leaves only one place to go.

You know that you’ll need all your stuff with you, so you take your whole kit; the lasso, your backpack, more pie. It’s all you can do not to leave without it, but a sheriff is always prepared for the long haul. If you need to chase the girl after…if she attacks Toriel…then you need to be ready for anything.

* * *

 

 When you get there, though, it’s just Toriel holding her arm, looking hurt. You breathe a sigh of relief and rush down to help her.

“You alright, m-Toriel? I have emergency pie if you need it.” She looks up at you and then shakes her head.

“Just come closer, my child.”

You do so, ready to inspect her injuries and get some bandages or something, but then she just pulls you into a hug.

“I am alright. You truly are a treasure, my child.” You hate when she calls you that, usually. Now, though, you’re fine with it, even if this whole situation is mood whiplash. Unpredictable is not your favorite word in the world.

“T-thanks.” You stutter out quietly, your face against her chest muffling your voice. She’s crying now and you can’t help but pull away.

“Toriel…Toriel. Mom,” You make the admission while looking away, ashamed of your own weakness as a sheriff to admit she’s your mother. Still, why shouldn’t you? There’s definite warmth to her, a kind of feeling of home that you get nowhere else. Maybe it’s not worth making such a fuss about.

She widens her eyes at your admission, though and it just makes the crying worse. That’s not what you wanted. You just stand there awkwardly, fidgeting with your gunbelt.

“It hurts me to ask you this, to lose you in the same day…but…” You purse your lips at her tone. Is she…sending you away? This could be an opportunity, but it hurts, too. You’ve just got used to have her around. You blow out some air like you’ve just finished inhaling cigarette smoke and do your best to play it cool.

“Okay.”

“I need you to go after her.”

Your facial expression changes a few times. First, you’re incredulous, your arms crossed as you wait for your real assignment, but she doesn’t waver. Then you let your shoulder droop.

“Why?” The way you say that, in almost a whiny voice, is horrible. It’s not you at your best, and you reprimand yourself silently for it. She puts a hand on your shoulder.

“She is confused, and she has a knife. I fear that she will be a danger to herself and the monsters around her. Had she not decided to flee, she may well have killed me.” You resist the urge to shout at her about why she’s putting so much emphasis in this new, random child, but you swallow your complaints.

“Okay.” You offer her tersely. She frowns at your curtness but continues.

“I know it is difficult, but I do not want to lose anyone else. You were the first to stay, so I thought that if I could encourage her, you might have a little sister…” You massage the back of your neck and keep your gaze away from her. That…makes sense. It doesn’t excuse the way the kid treated the monsters, but it makes sense. She sees your trepidation.

 “You can come back, of course! But I have tasked…someone else to watch over her. But he isn’t a human, you are-and you have a good heart, my child. I would ask you to make sure she is sound, not just physically.” So you’ll be her psychiatrist. Amazing. Great. Just what you asked for.

“You can’t go?” It's a stretch to ask her that, but information is important. 

“You know well enough that monsters are defenseless against determined humans. This girl…she is extremely dangerous to monsters, myself included. However, she is just a child to you, and as you fight like humans do, not with magic, you are far less susceptible to her determination.”  That makes sense; level the playing field, fight fire with fire.

“Right. Do I have to answer your calls now?” You give her a weak grin as you say this, though to be honest it hurts to curl your mouth upwards right now. A real struggle. She returns your forced smile.

“When you need to call me, I will be here.” That’s…well, it’s better than having to call her. She knows you have a tendency to call less if she asks you to call her.

“Okay. What is the endgame here? Am I going to take her to Asgore or what?” At the mention of the name she develops a cringe.

“You’ll have to make sure she doesn’t hurt someone. From there…it is up to you.”

“I could go with her to try and stop Asgore.” It’s a suggestion that rolls off the tongue, something you’ve thought about often over the past year.

“I do not believe that would be wise, my child. Asgore is powerful. But his soul…” She pauses and shakes her head. “No, for now, focus on ensuring that the child does not harm anyone around her, including herself.”

"I don't know...it's all very quick. Stil..." You balance on the tightrope of indecision. 

"I understand. I have done my best to train you and protect you, but I see the restlessness you have. A mother cannot keep her child cooped up forever- think of this as an adventure for yourself. You must be careful not to get hurt, but I think you will be alright. Just beware the royal guard and you will be well." This instruction is fair enough. 

Then it comes to you that this could be really be an escape for you. All the emotions you’ve held back- you know that the urge to explore is still there, or else you wouldn’t be even considering accepting this. You also want to make sure Toriel isn’t feeling badly, and this is nothing you can’t handle. A year of practice and all the determination in the world will keep you going. This will be your hour. Well, you might get killed, but enough of that negative thinking. I mean,  _Toriel_ believes you will do alright. Or does she believe she can't keep you here and so she's inventing an excuse? No, that's just mean. She wouldn't do that. 

You adjust your hat and give her a bob of the head in affirmation.

“I’ll grab my maps.”

 


	3. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sheriff finds his mark and contracts boneitis.

The cold isn’t that bad. You manage to wade through the thin blanket of snow on the ground, your scarf blowing lightly in the wind, your hat secure on your head, your hands protected by thick gardener’s gloves that Toriel made for you some time ago. A lasso hangs from your right hip; your gun is holstered at your left hip, empty, but always a potent symbol and a good bluff. The forest around you is creepy, that’s true, but you decided against taking the road except when you needed to cross a bridge. You pass by all manner of puzzles and traps, all activated. Guard posts are mostly abandoned, but you don’t find any dust on the ground sprinkled along with the snow. That’s good.

Every now and then you see a blue light in the trees beyond you, but it disappears as soon as you catch sight of it, so you don’t bother following it. Instead, you concentrate on your goal, trailing the light tracks in the ground made by the girl you’re supposed to be looking after. After a time as the wind gets worse you grow worried that maybe she froze to death and you’ll just find her body at the end. That would be pretty bad for multiple reasons.

Still, you can’t get distracted, and determination keeps you warm enough to keep moving despite your legs aching from your roundabout route. After a while the trees disappear, though, and you have to go into the open. You ignore most of the monsters along the route to Snowdin and handle your map clumsily as you try to figure out where exactly you need to go. Finally, you reach a clearing with several snow poffs, and your mind races about the wonders of what could be behind each snow poff. Then your eyes wander ahead to the guard post, and there she is, wandering almost aimlessly towards the bridge to Snowdin village. She’s still wearing the striped shirt and looks to be shivering pretty badly. There’s something in her hand but you can’t make it out from where you are.

You creep up behind one of the snow poffs and watch her next move. She’s oblivious to you and her sleeves are pulled down around her hands in a futile gesture to keep herself warm. She then stops ahead of a snow poff walking the way…and gasps when it reveals a massive dog in black armor. You have to hold yourself back from making a similar noise of astonishment. There are a lot of questions to be asked about the dog, but you’ve got the discipline to keep them to yourself.

Your eyes narrow as you try to get a closer look. She adopts a fighting stance with the dog and raises the thing in her hands- now you can tell it’s a knife. Okay, this is go-time. You undo the strap holding your lasso to your hip, and then do a few practice swings for good measure. For now, she’s focused on the dog, and it’s focused on her. Moment of truth; you swing the lasso.

It flies towards her- and then you realize you forgot to factor the dog into the equation. It sees what appears to be an amazing loop in the air, and leaps out of its armor, knocking the girl into the snow and doing a perfect jump right into the lasso.

“Wh-“ And then you’re pulled down into a snow poff as the dog drops with the lasso onto the ground and start rolling over, coiling the rope around itself. You pull your face out of the snow, covered in the stuff, and let go of the rope. It looks like the girl’s done the same thing, because they’ve pulled themselves up and is holding the knife shakily in her hand, staring right at you.

You kind of expected her to look freaky, but she’s more…terrified here. Still, your eyes can’t help but drift to the knife. You draw your gun, and the two of you find yourselves in a standoff while the oblivious dog rolls around with your lasso in the snow.

You’ve got a commanding presence with the gun as you stare her down a few feet away from you. She’s shaking lightly as she holds the knife.

“Drop the knife.” The words come out quickly and firmly, though you can’t help but admit your voice is a bit more shaky than you’d like.

“D-drop the gun.” She counters, involuntary shivering making her whole body shake lightly. A frigid wind blows by and deposits little snowflakes onto her head.

“No, that’s not how this works,” you argue with a hand out in front of you to pick up the knife, gun still trained on her. “Put the knife down on the ground or I’ll…” You leave the words hanging there for a moment, the cold wearing you down too much for sentence completion to be a priority for you.

“W-what…” She stutters out between shivers. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t k-know, what are you doing here?” Good retort.

She looks down and you take one step forward. The knife lowers slightly. “I needed to get…out.”

“So you hurt Toriel.” Your voice is cold. “You hurt her and now you’re going to hurt other monsters. I-is…that it?”

That gets a rise out of her. “They attacked me!” Her voice rises an octave and cracks, her breath visible as she shouts. “They attacked me…” Again, more quietly. That does make sense, but you have to hold your ground. Doesn't excuse it. Does it?

“O-…okay. They attacked you. Fine. But you were told how not to hurt them, and you did it anyway…” You’re started to shiver too; standing in one place for so long is just making you cold. She looks you straight in the eye, then, and you can see the redness on her eyelids and her nose. Was she crying before?

“Just…leave me alone. You’re not even here. You’re-you should be dead.”

Now that’s just mean. “Wow, thanks, you too.” She blinks a few times and furrows her brows, then shakes her head, snow falling from her hair.

“N…no, that’s not what I meant…” She insists with a trembling voice. It’s getting clear that this standoff is getting close to its conclusion. She’ll freeze to death at this rate, and that’ll defeat the whole point of this. Besides, finding the only human in the whole underground…it didn’t mean as much to you in the ruins, especially in the midst of her code violation, but now it’s a lot more stark. The rest of the underground has its share of dangers, and the forest is not as charming as you would have thought.

“Lo-ook. Okay. You’ll freeze to death if we stand here, and then that’ll…just defeat the point. Just, put the knife down, and I have a warm blanket in my bag.” She seems skeptical, though, judging by the way her body stiffens.

“And you’ll…what? Kill me and take my soul?” What? No, humans can’t even take other humans’ souls.

“I’ll tie you up and we’ll go to Snowdin and then I’ll see what to do from there. I don’t know. Maybe we’ll go to Asgore or maybe we’ll go back to the ruins-“anxiety flashes across her face – “or maybe we’ll get hot chocolate while you’re still tied up. Does that sound good to you?”

She’s considering it, now, her eyes are less desperate looking now, her eyes are less focused. “Just answer me…one question.” Okay, you’ll bite to get your mark. You roll your shoulders and some snow that’s collected on them drops down. Good work.

“Are you the sixth human?” Her voice is low, quiet, as if she’s just shared with you some secret. You stay silent for a few moments, and then give her a single bob of the head to confirm it. She releases a long sigh.

“Okay…I thought this might have been…something else.” You’d like her to elaborate, but then she tosses the knife in front of her a few feet. You approach it, still keeping your eyes on her, gun pointed, and throw it over the cliff. She watches it go, and then turns her eyes back to you. Wait, was that a toy knife? Too late to check now, dummy. 

“What’s your name, anyway?” You ask her as you put your gun away and retrieve a blanket from your backpack, wrapping it carefully around her. As soon as she’s a bit more comfortable and shaking less, she mumbles an answer.

“F-frisk.” She seems almost…ashamed of the name?

“I’m Chief.” You wrestle with the dog for the rope, and it’s growling as it tries to keep the lasso in its mouth. “Come on, gimme my lasso!” Frisk watches the fight, pulling the blankets tighter around her and developing the slightest smile. Finally you manage to pull your lasso, and the whining mutt saunters off, still growling, back into its armor, wandering off with the tail wagging out where the head should be.

Frisk’s smile drops when you take the lasso and tie it around her, and then take the end and tie it around your hand. “Okay, no one’s going to go anywhere now.” You tug lightly at the rope. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

Frisk shuffles behind you as you reach the bridge connecting to Snowdin town. “…Were you the one that attached a post-it-note to my face earlier?”

You check that the bridge is sturdy and then the two of you keep walking. “…Yeah. Yeah I did. You were sleeping in my bed.”

She adopts a non-chalant expression, clearly already warming up enough to be annoying. “…Weird.”

“What’s weird about it?” You shoot back at her maybe a bit too quickly.

“Oh, sorry, don’t let me hurt the sheriff’s feelings.” At that you stop and give her a glare. She just shrugs her shoulders. “Don’t look at me, I’m just the damsel in distress. Hopefully someone will save me.”

“You know, maybe I should have just left you back there to freeze.” You spit out at her impulsively, and then her face shifts, the smugness gone. She gets silent and looks back down. “…Sorry.” You finally admit as you near the end of the bridge, “I didn’t mean that. Just…don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t make fun of me like that. I’m not just going to sit here and take it. That wouldn’t be fair. Like it or not we’re in this together.” She has to suppress a sardonic laugh at that.

“In this together? You tied me up. I’m basically your prisoner. Actually, speaking of which-“ On cue, there’s a ‘NYEH’ from the end of the bridge, and you give her a confused glance before looking ahead…and seeing two skeletons, a tall one with flashy armor, and a short one with a blue jacket and an unsettling grin.

“NYEH, HUMAN, I THE GREAT PAPY-“ The larger skeleton focuses on you, then on Frisk, then back to you. “SANS, WHAT AM I LOOKING AT? THE HUMAN APPEARS TO BE TIED UP ON A LEASH.” The shorter skeleton, ‘sans’, you guess, just shrugs his shoulders.

“looks like you got outplayed, bro. someone’s already captured the human.” He never stops grinning, his eyes focused on you. The taller skeleton looks perplexed by all this.

“HMM, THIS IS INDEED A PROBLEM, BROTHER! FOR I WAS THE ONE TO CAPTURE THE HUMAN, NOT THIS…” The short one finishes it for him.

“bonety hunter?” Frisk makes a gagging noise from behind you, and you’re just confused as all heck as to what is going on.

“YES, INDEED BROTHER, A BONETY HUNTER! HA! YOU ARE TRULY A RIOT…NOT!” He focuses on you. “BOUNTY HUNTER, WILL YOU HARM THE HUMAN?” To be honest, you’re a bit flabbergasted at this point.

“Are…are you serious?” Frisk looks like they’re about to explode from laughter. Oh good, you’re glad they’re in a good mood. That just cheers you right up.

“papyrus, they might be…” Sans beckons the taller skeleton in (Papyrus is his name?) and whispers something to him- do they even have ears? And the taller skeleton gives a dramatic gasp.

“YOU MEAN?!”

“yeah.”

Oh, this could be bad.

“ANOTHER HUMAN HAS COME AND THEY HAVE CAPTURED THE HUMAN THAT I WAS TO CAPTURE? AND NOW I MUST FIGHT THEM TO CAPTURE THEM AND BY PROXY ALSO CAPTURE THE FIRST HUMAN!” Oh god.

“yeah bro, you got it.” You give Sans a death glare. That little-

“VERY WELL, HUMAN. I WILL FIGHT YOU WHEN WE GET TO SNOWDIN TOWN, FOR THE TRAPS THAT I HAVE LAID FOR YOU…ARE INADEQUETE, AND MAY HURT YOUR OWN HUMAN, AND THAT WOULD BE BAD. THEN I WILL CAPTURE YOU, AND JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD!” With that, Papyrus darts off at an abnormally fast speed, and you could have sworn his feet leave the ground a few times. 

You try to get an explanation from Frisk but she just gives a nonchalant shrug. 

“hey kiddo.” Sans calls you over and, not seeing much choice and wanting to get off the bridge, you go. “so why do you have Frisk tied up?”

Huh, they must have met each other before. Maybe this is the one Toriel…? No, he doesn’t look like it. Is he wearing slippers? “That’s none of your business.” Okay, maybe in hindsight that was a bad thing to say, because his eye flashes blue for a second, the grin unwavering.

“cool. that’s cool, I get you, you don’t want to say. but you know, i would prefer if you did.” Okay…that’s kind of intimidating.

“Uh…well, I’ve got someone who asked me to do it. And Frisk is dangerous.” That seems to get his interest. He stares past you to the girl and his face changes ever so slightly. It’s kind of creepy and you wouldn’t want to be Frisk at this moment.

“why do you say that?” Something about the way he asks you freaks you out. Maybe it’s the way that his eyes disappear, leaving dark sockets, for half a second. You look back to Frisk and she seems just as unnerved as you, her body tense. Well, a little white lie…

“She…she slept in my bed when it was against regulation.” You look over to Frisk and after getting over some initial confusion she nods profusely.

“Yeah!” She insists. “I’ve still got it…somewhere…” She struggles against the rope and blanket but it’s no use. You pull out a blank note that’s similar from your coat pocket (you always keep a few) and hand it over. Sans reviews the note.

“well, looks pretty official. listen kid, sorry if i scared either of you. i just get bad feelings, but i don’t want to give you a bed time over it.”

“Yeah, that makes sen-“ The pun hits you hard, but before you can respond Sans has already left.

“Where did he go…”

Frisk shakes her head and relaxes. “He does that. Why’d you lie? You didn’t need to.”

“I didn’t.” You say with an air of seriousness as you start walking again towards Snowdin. “You really were breaking a section of the code when you slept in my bed without a permit.”

“Well…” You turn back as she stops walking and gives you a thoughtful look. “T-thanks.”

You shrug and then continue the final few steps to Snowdin town. “Don’t bet on that being a regular thing. I’m just scared of skeletons.”

“…Me too.” She agrees, and both of you are at least happy that there’s something you can agree about.

 

                                                       

 


	4. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff interrogates his prisoner.

As you enter town you know that a hundred eyes are on you and Frisk, but you keep your own gaze straight ahead and avoid any questioning glances. Your first goal is to get yourself to the inn, though you quietly note the shop, where you could probably get some food once your own supplies of it run out. It won’t be any easier considering you’ll need to feed Frisk and figure out a game plan.

Also is that a bunny monster with a pet bunny? Better not to think about it...

The monster running the inn looks to be some sort of bunny. She asks you for eighty gold and you empty your pockets in exasperation. Then she asks you for _another_ eighty gold for your companion.

“Oh, she’s my prisoner.”

“Oh, okay! Prisoners are half-off for room and board. Are you a member of the royal guard? I can see your badge.” You massage the back of your neck and then nod a few times. You can feel Frisk glaring at you from behind. There's no way this can end badly, you tell yourself. Nope. Just act natural and monster-y. 

“Yeah, I am.”

“Oh, wonderful! Then this must be your human. That’s a very good disguise, sir! You fooled me. Please take them in free of charge.” She puts your room key on the counter.

“Yeah, thanks.” You sweep it up and go upstairs, still towing Frisk, who seems to be heating up and shifting uncomfortably in her blanket cocoon.

Finally, you reach a bed and fall down onto it, still holding onto Frisk with your free hand.

“You’re a jerk.” She grumbles as she struggles to get out of the blanket. “Can you at least get me out of this?”

You wave her off. “In…a minute. Ahh…nice bed.” You finally recuperate after a minute or two and pull yourself up, closing the door and then moving to untie Frisk. “No sudden moves.” You warn, gun out again.

She does as you ask, you untie her, take the blanket off, and then tie her again. Then you pull up a chair for her so she can sit down in it.

“Thanks a lot, sheriff.” She swoons sarcastically. “So, what’s the next step of your master plan? You can’t pretend to be a member of the royal guard forever. Someone’ll find us and take our souls. Maybe Sans will. He creeps me out, you know.”

You’re not listening much to her as you examine a map of the next region of the underground, Waterfall, and mark possible paths with a pencil. She shakes in the chair in irritation. “Are you even listening to me? You really are a jerk. You tied me up and now I have to play prisoner in some weird twisted game of yours. Why are you really doing this, though? What is your plan? What are you try-“ Your pencil’s tip breaks as you’re marking something as she continues rambling. 

“Oh dang, pencil broke. Maybe I can get another from you. You seem to like sharp things.” She flinches at the accusation, maybe because it’s not wrong.

“I have to defend myself,” she says as she adjusts her position in the chair to be more comfortable. “Have you seen the monsters? It’s kill or be killed.”

“That so?” You reply, tapping the pencil to your chin. “I seem to recall one monster that baked you a pie.”

“That…” She hesitates before continuing more confidently. “That was different! It was, really. I didn’t want to fight Toriel. Honest.”

You put your elbow on your eye and lean on your arm, staring straight at her from the bed. “So what was it, then.”

“She…she made me fight her. To prove my worth.” You shake your head to that.

“No she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did!” Frisk insists from the chair. “She did. She said that I had to prove I was ready to leave the ruins when I tried to leave.”

You have to repress a sigh. “Okay. Let’s say that’s true. So why did you leave? She was offering you everything you’d want.”

Frisk bites her lip to that and looks away from you. “That’s…none of your business.”

“She wanted to have you as a younger sister to me or something. Now, I could care less about that, honestly. I never had siblings, so I can’t say. But she really wanted it, and you turned her away. And to make matters worse, you hurt her. Why?”

She shakes her head vigorously. “None. Of. Your. Business.”

You stamp your foot on the ground. “You made it my business when you hurt my mother!” Your face is getting red, you just can’t get this. Why can’t they just admit to it? It’s just fairness to admit it, and then he might be able to let bygones be bygones.

Frisk shouts out at that. “I DIDN’T WANT TO!” She seems taken aback by her own confession. She’s breathing quickly, and her cheeks are red. She’s near crying, holding back tears. You just stare blankly at her. Didn't expect this. Uh...okay. Let's try and...try and fix this? You contemplate calling Toriel but this should be under your jurisdiction as sheriff. 

More quietly, she repeats. “I…didn’t want to.”

“What. What do you mean?” One of your hands has been gripping the bed sheets more and more tightly as the argument has escalated, and now the knuckles are practically white. Never took shouting matches well. 

“I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay. But…I couldn’t. It wasn’t…it wasn’t what I needed to do.” She is practically blubbering now, and shame begins to well up inside you. You didn’t mean to reduce her to this wreck. Still, Frisk is stronger than she looks, and she manages to get a hold of herself enough to elaborate.

“I have a…voice. Imaginary friend. And other voices. And it’s hard to make…good decisions. I always want to…hurt monsters, but I don’t really want to hurt monsters.” An old memory strikes you at that.

“Like…like a thought you didn’t think you thought. Okay, that’s a tongue twister but…” Her eyes light up.

“Yeah! Yeah…like that. That’s…what I mean. It’s not like someone is really. It’s not like they’re always talking to me, but they push me to do things and I’m not sure why I do them, but then I’m already doing them.” She bobs her head emphatically.

“Like someone has pushed an idea into your head and once it’s there you can’t dislodge it.” You offer up.

“That’s it…how did you know? Do you get that too?” Frisk pauses, stares at you and then registers what you mean.

 You rub your arm anxiously and do your best to think of situations like that. It was probably…probably how many times you were pushed to leave, but you never did. You always resisted the idea…or did you resist the idea not to leave and lost? That sends a visible shiver down your spine and Frisk figures it out.

“So…you do.”

“Not in the same way, I think. I mean, I never got the urge to hurt monsters. But I always got the urge to get out, and it always got pushed back for some reason, but I never really thought it about much afterwards. But when I gather it all together it never really makes sense.”

Frisk spares you a weak smile. “Then…we’re both crazy. It’s not just me…not just me. Can you reset, too?” You give her an uncomprehending look.

“Guess not…come to think of it, I can’t either…not this time…” Your eyes narrow at that, and Frisk can see your suspicious expression.

“Never…never mind that. But. You’re the sixth human, right?” You nod. “I…I thought you died. Whenever I had other s-dreams, you were dead.”

You take your hat off at that and clear any of the snow off, then regard it in your hands, smoothing out the contours and carefully fixing any creases. After a long silence you speak, not taking your hands away from the hat. “I used to dream about dying over and over again when I was with Toriel. It was always the same thing, dying in a trash dump. I was bloodied and a black figure in armor stood over me. I felt my soul cracking and then disappearing. Then the dream would repeat.”

Is that sympathy from Frisk in her eyes? You can’t tell. “It happened quite a bit to me. One day…one day I said to Toriel that nightmares are too clichéd, and then I forced myself to think they had stopped.”

“Did they?” Frisk asks. You shake your head.

“Nope. I just…I thought if I willed myself enough to stop them then they would stop. But they kept coming. More often, though, after that I felt something else. The dream, sometimes, would continue after I died.” You shudder at the recollection. “That was worse…feelings of vines and tentacles, of a terrible blackness, of a horrible smiling face and then…nothing.” It was too much at this point to keep lying to yourself and everyone else about it. Your own internal narrator wasn't clued in to the continuance of your nightmares- that's how far it had gone. You just needed to get it out, finally. 

“Do you ever have dreams like that?” You look up from the hat to Frisk, and she seems deep in thought herself. She snaps to and says that she does.

“When I dream, though,” she explains, “the dreams are always different. Sometimes I die…from bones flooding over me, covering my whole body…” She moves to wipe a tear, but because she’s tied up it’s just an uncomfortable reflex for her. “Sometimes it’s vines, like you said, sometimes it’s an axe, sometimes it’s just…some attack or another. A spear, maybe. Then, I go back, and I do it again.

“It’s hard, you know, doing it over and over again. I…It’s not something I want to do, but it happens.” Quickly, she adds, “in my dreams, I mean.”

After that exchange you both share in a comfortable silence. Finally, you break it. “Listen…Frisk. You asked me what my plan is? I don’t know Frisk, I don’t know. I’m just going with my gut on this like the cowboys did in the history books. It’s…I’ve seen my own death so many times that I’m probably more afraid than I should be.” To be quite honest, it's something you thought about a lot. You do have a plan, a real plan, but it isn't something that you're willing to share with Frisk, frankly, you just met her and although you'll talk to her and give her some courtesy you definitely aren't going to start telling them about that. 

“I know the feeling, Chief…” Frisk offers, and then her stomach growls. Agreeing with her gastrointestinal reflexes, your own stomach responds in hearty agreement, and you fall back on the bed in exhaustion, and then take a glance at your backpack, remembering something. 

“Honestly, I am starving. I packed some of Toriel’s pie…do you want it?” Frisk gestures with her head to the rope tying her, but almost salivates at the mention of pie.

“I can make it just around your hands…just for the pie.” You warn her dramatically and she rolls her eyes. It’s a bit nice to have some levity after such a heavy conversation, so you actually take her up on it and re-tie the rope around her hands and then unwrap the tie that Toriel saved you. However, underneath the pie you notice your cellphone and you take it out of the backpack with an indecisive expression.

“I…have Toriel’s phone number if you want to call.” Frisk thinks about it for a while, and then shakes her head. That’s fine by you- there’s too much to talk about it. You’d prefer to wait out the night so you can summarize it to her.

You both enjoy the pie and you have to clean off the crumbs around your face from how fast you eat it. Monster food is really great. None of the problems with a stomach ache from eating too much candy or pastries. A true paradise, besides the nightmares and skeletons.

After the pie you’re both feeling pretty bushed, but then a problem you didn’t really consider comes up; who’ll sleep in the bed. Both of you come to the realization at about the same time.

“Well…you’re the prisoner. I have to keep you comfortable for when we get to Asgore!” You exclaim as dramatically as a tired twelve year old can.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Frisk’s tone makes you sense she didn’t really get your joke. “I can really…sleep anywhere. And besides it’s not a good idea for you to be below me in case…” She lets it drop off. That's  _interesting_. Either she's being genuine or she's trying to get you to trust her. Well it'll take more thna that. 

“Right, good idea. Here, I’ll drape the blanket on the floor for you so you have…something.” You suggest, and she takes it.

You take off your boots and put your hat carefully on the bedframe. Your gun, though…quietly, as Frisk gets as comfortable as someone who’s tied up on the ground, you shift it under your pillow, and you keep facing towards her when you go to bed.

After all, there was one dream you decided not to talk to her about, featuring a shadowy figure with a striped shirt, a tattered cowboy hat, and a dusty antique revolver.  

                                           

                                           

 


	5. Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff conducts a press conference and then a private interview with one of his admirers.

The nightmare comes back. It’s much…clearer now, too, which doesn’t help you much. You walk through the garbage dump trailing blood, your antique revolver in your hand. You wait for the black figure to appear so you can end this, repeat it again, or something else; you don’t know because you’re not entirely in control of your dream here, you’re just playing along, a sort of spectator to your own death. It’s odd in how it works- you just sort of feel compelled to go along with the dream even if in reality you should have freedom of action.

After a few minutes with no one showing up, you began to fade off. Finally, you’re fed up, and you take the antique revolver in your hand and look down at it. Covered in dust. Where did that dust come from? What did you do? You close your eyes for a final time.

The echo flowers repeat the sound of a single gunshot for several days.

* * *

 

You wake up in a cold sweat, gripping hard onto the gun under your pillow, eyes snapping open. Frisk is still there and seems asleep, though they don’t seem to be enjoying their dream much more than you judging by the way their face is contorted. You’re really made for each other, the two of you. Do all the kids who come down here become kooks, you wonder?

Idly, you roll the empty cylinder of your revolver a few times, a light click audible as you pop the hammer back and spin it, staring down at the gun. That dream…was different, and after you had it there wasn’t another one. It was disturbingly clear, like it was something that recently happened, or something you remembered more than anything else.

Your eyes wander back to Frisk. How does a kid end up wandering to Mount Ebott? Your own predicament was pretty bad. Abandoned by the family, distrustful of anyone, feeling suffocated in the town. You needed to let go, to get out, to be free from the boundaries that had been set for you. That makes a lot of sense. Yeah. That’s the best answer.

Frisk, though…did they have the same problem? Or maybe it was the whole ‘likes sharp knives’ problem, with the fact that they had some issues with voices in their head. You had your own issues, like the fact that you would wander off on tangents, or maybe that you could be too zealous and blunt when you called someone out for being unfair, or that you couldn’t bear to stand authority…but these weren’t issues in the same way down here. You chose to be with Toriel…right?

The discussion about the voice from last night makes you wonder. Was it your own decision? Is this, staking it out and leaving and hunting down Frisk and trying to find your own way- is this the first independent thing that you have done? Do you have independent things, or is it just society bearing down on you and pushing you to think you have free thought?

You shrug and eat an apple, a loud crunch as you obnoxiously bite down on it, oblivious to how loud it is. The sound isn’t enough to wake Frisk up, but they shift around a little bit, and embarrassed you lower your apple biting volume. After finishing it down to the core and tossing it into a trashcan at the corner of the room, you get up and check the door knob, tracing the edge lightly with your index finger and then appraising it. Chalk dust highlights your little fingerprint on the knob, and it doesn’t look like Frisk touched it.

That’s good; you put the chalk on there for a reason. The door was locked but you really would prefer if they didn’t try to leave and then try to wrestle you for the key. That also told you that you can trust them at least not to leave at the first opportunity, though they may have assumed you had the key anyway so it’s not totally clear. You glance back at their prone form coiled up in blankets on the ground and put your hat and after a suitable period of adjustment in the mirror-

You hear a giggle coming from the blankets, or at least you swear you hear it, but when you turn around Frisk is soundly asleep. Suspicious, you decide to leave the formal hat adjustment until later, and holster your gun after securing your belt and then putting on your coat.

You walk to the door and do your best to copy Toriel’s tone.

“Hey Frisk, I’m going to go grab some food. I’m going to lock the door so don’t try to run. I have some comic books in my backpack if you want to read them.” She just mumbles something in her sleep and rolls over. Satisfied, you leave the suite, lock the door, and then make some fake steps as if you’re walking away, the steps becoming softer as you “walk away”. Nothing from inside.

Maybe they suspect you? You don’t know. Too many possibilities, so you decide to leave it for now and proceed downstairs, drinking from a juice pack you elected to bring with you.

* * *

 

You promptly spit the juice out when you get to the lobby- and find a full camera crew of several monsters and some sort of robot as well as a crowd. They begin to clap wildly as you approach and the robot, holding a microphone, adopts a debonair voice as they gesture to you.

“Why, if it isn’t our hero of the royal guard now! And such lifelike features! See how he even spits out his drink like a human! Truly amazing costume design, you must tell me who arranged this, sir.”

You gape in bafflement for a few moments at the robot and the crowd. It clears its throat. “I see you’ve been struck speechless by this display of support for the royal guard by our viewers at home. Tell us, sir…?” The robot covertly uses an extended arm to shove a cue card into your hands. As soon as you recognize what’s happening you clear your throat and awkwardly read from the card.

“Yes…I am flattered, really, but I care only about the viewers and you, the wonderful host of MTT News, Mettaton!” oh my god what is this

The robot pats you on the shoulder affectionately and waves to the crowd. “Do you have any words for the folks at home about how you accomplished such an amazing task as capturing a human, that most vicious of creatures?” He nudges another cue card into your hand using his extendo-arm.

“I…used…the skill of any royal guard and…” You squint to read the next part, “the power of MTT-brand Human costume design!” Mettaton, you presume, gives a distorted electronic laugh.

“That’s right. MTT-brand human costume design can make even the most innocuous monster into a vicious human juvenile. In fact, as a comparison the innkeeper is having the human brought down as we speak from our hero’s suite!” Your eyes grow wide as saucers.

“wh”

Frisk is dragged down by two burly members of the camera crew who appear to be huge muscular seahorses who give everyone in the vicinity extremely uncomfortable winks. Frisk is struggling but it really isn’t much use considering she’s tied up and held by some monstrous aquatic bodybuilder who's giving you creepy winks. 

Gasps emit from the crowd. Numerous comments shoot forth. 

“Oh my!”

“So lifelike!”

“And so vicious too!”

“Can I eat it?”         

“It’s so small!”

“Just one more soul!”

“Woo Undyne!”

You just massage your brow as beads of perspiration roll down your face. This isn’t a great situation. You have almost no way of getting out here, you’re surrounded by monsters, and who knows how long this press conference is going to take-

Suddenly the robot puts an arm to his…ear? He doesn’t have an ear. What is with monsters and ear gestures when you don’t have any?

He makes a dramatic noise and calms down the crowd. “I have just received word that the head of the Royal Guard herself, Undyne, is coming down to see the captured human!” Cheers break out from the group as they cause an uproar shouting for Undyne’s arrival. Frisk is still being held there and the robot reporter seems to be reveling in all the excitement. He puts his microphone forward.

“Now, while we wait, let’s take some testimonials. Has anyone ever seen a human before?” There is a long silence from the crowd, and then suddenly a familiar voice from the back.

“OH, OH, MY BROTHER SANS HAS! HE’S PART OF THE ROYAL GUARD AND HE’S FOUGHT HUMANS BEFORE! PICK HIM!” As if it couldn’t get worse. Even Frisk groans. Papyrus is literally holding up his brother like some sort of baby to be kissed by a politician. The crowd parts for Papyrus, still carrying Sans who doesn’t seem to mind this at all. Papyrus lifts Sans up for Mettaton’s microphone and  the robot shoves it in the blue-hooded skeleton’s face.

“Did you really…meet a human?!” The robot seems impossibly excited which just exacerbates the crowd’s excitement. Everyone seems to be craning their necks to hear what Sans has to say.

“yeah.”

The crowd goes wild and Mettaton puts a hand up to their…screen? In shock. “Oh my, I think I’m going to faint from the twists and turns! Can you tell us when this was?” Again, anticipation. The room’s air seems to become heavier, and it’s not just the uncomfortable breathing coming from the muscular seahorses.

“about half an hour ago.” This seems to knock everyone off their feet, even Mettaton seems to fall over in mock surprise. Or is it real surprise? You can’t tell what Sans is even talking about at this point. What other human?

“Where was this?! Two human sightings…we may just be getting the barrier broken!”

Sans doesn’t skip a beat, his arms limp and hanging as Papyrus stoically holds him. “at waterfall by the temmie village.”

The answer sends the crowd into a frenzy. Mettaton calls his crew and the bodybuilder unceremoniously drops Frisk. The whole group empties out quickly, just leaving Sans, Papyrus, you, and Frisk. You move to help Frisk up and then glare at Sans. He shrugs.

“you needed them off your back, kiddo, so we did.”

Papyrus scratches his head. “THAT IS A VERY CONVINCING COSTUME YOU HAVE, SIR. I WOULD NOT HAVE SUSPECTED THAT YOU WERE A MEMBER OF THE ROYAL GUARD.” You just fidget idly with your hands and try to calm down from the near panic attack that the interview induced. Frisk isn’t looking too good either, alternating between boiling rage when she looks at you and what is probably nausea from being woken up and almost captured.

“hey bro, you want to go catch up with the crew? i know you want to catch the other human and all.”

“GOOD IDEA, BROTHER! I TRUST THAT YOU WILL STAY HERE AND WATCH THIS ONE? TRY NOT TO FALL ASLEEP AND LOSE THEM.”

“don’t worry about it, bro.” Sans assures him, and then Papyrus is off, leaving the three of you. He turns to face you two.

“man, isn’t my brother cool? anyway, i wanted to talk to you two but never really got the time. here, let’s go to grillby’s, i know a shortcut.”

You cross your arms as you regain your senses, but it’s Frisk that asks the question. “The bar? Isn’t Grillby’s crawling with members of the royal guard?” How did she know that?

“nah, everyone followed mettaton. he’s a real…metia mogul, right?” Neither you or Frisk laugh. “yeah that wasn’t very good. my material is always worse before lunch.”

“I mean…I guess we could. No harm done, right?” You consider out loud and then look over to Frisk. They don’t seem that concerned one way or another, seems like they’re just trying to get over what just happened.

“then it’s settled.” You feel…something, and then after following him for an impossibly short time you go to Grillby’s. There’s some unsettling about the way you did that, but you decide against questioning the skeleton. There too much that you don’t know. Frisk on the other hand seems positively relaxed when it happens, like they've done it before. Maybe you’ll ask them about it later.

* * *

 

Sans is right; the bar _is_ empty. It’s just the bartender, a guy who’s head seems to be just fire. Sans sits down and orders a burger. Frisk also gets a burger and you get some fries.

“odd man out, huh.” Sans comments idly as the burgers are served. Sans sits to your right and Frisk to your left, though they just stare at the burger.

“Oh yeah, you’re still tied, haha…” You say nervously. This time you just fully untie her, much to her own surprise. Sans doesn’t seem to think much of it, but judging by the way Frisk keeps flicking her eyes over to Sans when she thinks he isn’t looking she’s too afraid of him to do anything anyway. After massaging her wrists, she digs into her food without further comment.

“so, my brother. what do you think of him?” The question comes out of nowhere and you’re thrown off by it. What a bizarre thing to ask. You barely know Papyrus, but you do your best to come up with an answer. Well, he seems pretty enthusiastic, full of determination which is something you can respect. He’s incredibly loud though, and his shtick can get obnoxious, but you aren’t exactly going to say that in front of Sans. At least he didn’t really try to fight you and judging by Frisk’s intactness and lack of fear at Papyrus they seem to be the skeleton brother they’re less worried about.

After finishing a fry, you give your answer. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool. I like the way he goes at everything with 100%.” Sans seems pleased by the answer judging by the way their grin widens just a tiny bit. It’s deeply unnerving.

“that’s how i think of it, yeah. so how long you been down here?” That one gives you more pause. Why would that interest him? Why would he ask you that unless he had some inkling you hadn’t just come down like Frisk did?

“About a…solid year now, I think.” Frisk seems to be listening in as well. You elaborate. “I came down because…I wasn’t really cool with how things were going up top, so to speak. So I left, found myself down here, and made my way around. I’m a sheriff now.” Maybe playing up that card can help. Sans doesn’t appear actively malicious but you can tell they seem to be watching and judging your actions.

“woah, kid, didn’t know they gave out those positions that early for humans. gives a new meaning to the word cow-boy.”

“Heh, yeah. And with Papyrus it can be a spaghetti western!” Frisk offers up with a rueful smile, but Sans doesn’t seem to get the joke.

“i don’t get it. that some human phrase?”

“Oh.” You realize, intervening to save Frisk from some embarrassment as she's already wilting from the bad reception. “Yeah, yeah it is.” Grillby  gazes idly in your direction and you realize your mistake. “As I learnt from Undyine in training.” The fiery bartender goes back to cleaning a glass.

“yeah, when you’re down here make your puns applicable to both species. i mean it doesn’t get under my skin, but…” He shrugs his shoulders when both you and Frisk give him a glare. “jeez, that one was good. tough crowd. anyways, who made you sheriff?”

“Well, I kind of gave myself the position…” Frisk snickers and you pout, shoving a fry in your mouth in protest to her mockery. Also because you like fries.

“Hey, come on. Clearly I earned it because I captured you.”

Frisk rolls her eyes as she finishes her burger and then retorts, “Yeah, you ended up lassoing the dog really well. Loved the way it just /jumped/ into your rope. Really showed some skill.”

“heh. guess he roped you into this, then, kiddo?” Sans is addressing Frisk now. Frisk fiddles with some stray lettuce.

“No…I came down here because I wanted out. Out of...outside.” She neglects to finish that and you can’t really blame her. This isn’t that bad of a conversation, but Sans just gives you a bad feeling. Hard to explain.

“out of outside, huh? I know what you mean. so i just wanted to ask something. either of you encounter a little yellow talking flower?” There it is again, the dangerous flicker of the eyes. He’s talking to both of you but seems to be focused on Frisk. After a long silence she says yes sheepishly.

“okay good, i’m just gathering information on it. it’s some echo flower pranking my bro, i don’t really want papyrus to get too overconfident because the flower just repeats everything he says. that’s some bad bones.” Frisk doesn’t seem convinced and you recall the flower he’s probably referring to. You met it twice, once when you first came and the second time as you were leaving the ruins.

It never seemed interested in you, and you never thought much of it, but the way Frisk looks right now…

Maybe you should have.

 


	6. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff has an argument and shifts gears.

After you and Frisk finished your food Sans showed you two a “shortcut” back to the inn outside your room, which left you feeling a bit dizzy. You really would have to ask Frisk about that later. The short skeleton rolls its-his? Shoulders (does he just have shoulder blades), and looks between the two of you.

“well, i’m gonna get going. the raft to waterfall is probably going to be full of monsters going both ways so i wouldn’t suggest it.” You give a sigh in frustration at that bit of information.

“So we just have to wait here?”

“dunno, my bro is probably gonna be back soon. if you want you could hang with him- he still thinks you’re a royal guard.” Hang out with…Papyrus? Of all people? No, you had a goal to go towards and wasting time with the skeleton would just be a bad idea. What if he found out your disguise? And what about the fact that Frisk is no longer tied up?

You glance over to them, but they’re just standing there with their arms crossed, tensed up, careful not to make eye contact with Sans. You wave him off and then he walks away, presumably using another one of his shortcuts. After a few seconds you open your mouth to speak but Frisk cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I’m not being tied up again.” You pause and gape at them and they just blow some air out of their nose. “Do you think this is a game? I’m just going to go. This has been ridiculous.” You stare at her for a few moments, incredulous. This isn’t working out at all how you planned it to go, but you had even set up a planner and made sure that every move was going to go as you wanted! Now everything had fallen apart.

How should you do this? You put a hand on Frisk’s shoulder as they begin to walk away, but that just makes them mad. They shrug you off and then they’re standing facing you with a furrowed brow and their arms at their sides, their stance combative.

“What do you want, Chief? Why are you doing any of this? You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? Playing this like it’s some sort of game or comic book where you pass through hilarious setpieces and I get to be a prop to your adventure? I could die. You could die, but you’re already supposed to be dead anyway.” You narrow your eyes at her at that.

“You’re not much better.” You mumble under your breath.

“What?”

“You’re. Not. Much. Better.” You finally explode at her, shouting in the hallway. She’s taken aback as you continue. “You act like you know everything, but you don’t. You’re just some kind of freaky girl who can’t keep herself away from knives, and now you act like I’m the problem here? Can I remind you why you were even tied up? You were trying to stab things with knives!”

She objects to that. “It was a toy knife!”

You aren’t going to back down now, right? Come on, let her have it. Really cut her down.

…

What? You didn’t think that?

Regardless you continue. “Oh yeah, a toy knife. I bet that was just training. That toy knife hurt my m-Toriel! It hurt Toriel! What did she do to you?”

Now it’s her turn to object. She slams her foot down, and her face is getting red. “Toriel attacked me! She said I needed to be worthy or something like that! So I fought her! It’s kill or be killed, you dumbo. You’re so busy playing cowboy that you clearly haven’t been paying attention? You think you’re in control, that you know what you’re doing? You don’t. You’re just wandering around, pretending you are a big sheriff, but you’re nothing, you know that? You’re just a dumb kid with a hat and an old gun who ties up girls and wanders around without any purpose.

You’re dumbstruck, but she’s not done. “Oh yeah, I can see your face now. Did it really take you that long to figure it out? You’re not a cowboy or a sheriff or whatever thing you’ve convinced yourself you are in your mind. That badge is from some dollar store, probably. Why would you even want to be a cowboy?” She’s grinning viciously. “Cowboys are just idiots who spent their time ranching cattle.”

She did not just go there.

“Take it back.” Your voice is low and dangerous, it doesn’t even crack like it usually does when you try to do sound low and dangerous.

She turns her head away from you haughtily and shakes it. “No.”

“Take. It. Back.”

“Cowboys. Are. Dumb-“ You yell a mighty battle cry and then jump to wrestle her to the ground. She’s unexpectedly good at dodging, though, and you just fall to the ground. Your hat falls down beside you and you feel hot tears streaming down your face. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. She just stands over you, watching as you get up, huffing. You reach for your revolver- but she has it.

“Huh.” She says as she looks it over. “I wondered how you could get ammunition for this- but you didn’t. It’s just an empty gun. A big bluff, just like everything else about you. You know what, I don’t really get you.” You dust yourself off and smooth out the hat, still panting and red in the face as she plays with the revolver.

“You just pretend to play as a cowboy, a sheriff, but it seems like you really believe it. Why?” You don’t deign to give her an answer and just rush at her, disheveled, your hair a mess and your hat dropped to the ground. She moves to the side and trips you. You’re definitely too angry to be any good at this and she’s very good at dodging you. Once again you get up, and she’s still fiddling with the revolver a little away from you, her eyes cold, different. This is less the desperation you saw in her when you first caught her- it’s something else entirely.

“You can keep doing that for a while. I’ve played this game before.” The taunt causes you to lunge at her, but as expected she just avoids you and you hit your nose against the inn’s wall. You yelp and rub it with your hands, then turn around to face her.

“You just don’t give up, do you?” You consider wiping that insufferable grin off her face but you opt instead to take a deep breath. Time to try the hat end of the triangle of being a sheriff.

“I don’t get you either, Frisk. One minute you’re eating pie no problems, then you’re yelling at me, and then you’re acting completely different. And you call me a weirdo?” You do your best to mimic her own tone and face to try and get under her skin.

She doesn’t seem to fall for the bait, though. “That’s none of your business.”

You figure you might as well keep trying this because another lunge and you’ll break your nose. “Right, that’s what you say, but you know all sorts of things- like the fact that Sans takes shortcuts, or that you can’t trust the skeletons, or that you keep saying I’m supposed to be dead. So let me make a guess, you’re totally crazy. I may pretend to be a cowboy but at least I’m /stable/ in my delusions.”

That does the trick. She glares at you. “They aren’t delusions, they’re just observations.”

“Are they your observations, though? Or one of the voices in your head?” Now that sets something off. She’s about to answer you in the same cold tone but then she stops before she can open her mouth and goes silent for a while, her face scrunched up in contemplation. Maybe this is an opportunity.

“I think…” What do you think? What is it that you could say? Maybe…”I think that you’re just pretending to be all calm because really you’re terrified. Toriel said you were a crybaby.”

“Mom would never say that!” She blurts out, and then realizes the slip before she can say anything. “I mean…Toriel. I mean…” She seems to be losing her composure as she holds a hand up to her forehead, rubbing it. “I…I…”

Now is the time to get a rush up on her. You take a step forward…

She falls to her knees, dropping the revolver and gripping her head, mumbling incomprehensibly to herself.

_What should you do?_

_Now’s your chance. Kill her and eliminate our problem!_

“What?”

_You take a step back. Don’t do that though. Wait, what are you doing…_

_Come on, you know what’s best for you, don’t you?_

_Come on. Go on forward, the revolver might not be as empty as it might seem…_

“I’m not gonna do that.” _You mumble to yourself, but really, you should. Come on, go on ahead. Two souls to pass the barrier, and then we’ll see…_

“No. “ _Oh, I see how it is. Well, imagine it like this. Asgore’s death will allow you to become an extremely powerful being. Absorb the other human souls, and then… you can save the surface as well. With seven human souls you will become a god._ _Someone who can really do something great for us._

“If I kill Asgore it will be on my own terms.” _That’s ridiculous. Your own terms? How long do you think this has been going on? Your own terms are not meaningful by comparison to mine. Consider the facts arrayed before you; that your very continued existence is owed to me._

“Is it?” _Oh look, the girl is still crying on the ground and she doesn’t seem to be noticing your insane dialogue. Well, you are insane, kid, you’re totally insane. You’re not in the position to answer questions here, either. I know what’s best for you, I’ve been dealing with this stuff for a while._

“You’re really mean for a voice in the head.” _Oh whoa, nice observation there cowboy. Didn’t think someone of your brainpower could be possible of that kind of eloquence. Well, think of it this way; she’s extremely dangerous. We’d be better off letting her die for her own sake._

“What if I asked you to leave?” _Why would I ever do that?_

“I don’t know, this is pretty abrupt and all. I would prefer some privacy.” _I’ve been narrating your life for a while, don’t think I’m going anywhere. Look, I'm the only one you can trust here- Frisk? They're crazier than you. Sans is sketchy, Papyrus adds too many questions to how things work..._

“What if I…” _What are you doing? Put that gun down. What are you doing with that? Haha, good one, kiddo. Now put it away._

“Oh, now you’re concerned when I put the revolver up to my head? It didn’t seem so before I did that.” _Well, I mean, I kind of need you for something—_

_Okay, okay, whoa! Get your hand off that trigger. Let’s talk about this._

“I have my terms. Leave me alone. And I bet you’re in Frisk’s head too. Leave her alone.” _In Frisk’s? Absolutely not. That’s a whole different can of worms I’m not touching- keep the revolver away from your damned head-Fine! Fine. You win. I’m out. Don’t think this is the last time you'll see me, though. I'll find a way back in once you're done being a kook._

* * *

Chief puts a hand to his head and massages his forehead. _Let’s run some damage control and see if I’m free of that. Hello, anyone in here? No? Okay. Cool. Looking good._ He breathes a sigh of relief and puts the revolver at his holster, crouching to his knees in front of Frisk who is holding her chest with her arms and breathing in and out.

“Hi.”

“…”

Chief offers Frisk a hand. “That was a big argument. Sorry about that. Things got a bit heated. Let’s…uh, let bygones be bygones? Is that the word?” Frisk stares suspiciously at Chief for a while before they take the hand and rise up. Their cheeks are red and puffy, and Chief’s aren’t much better.

Chief shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his shoulders. “Do you want tissues?”

Frisk nods their head without a word. Chief unlocks the door to his room and hangs his hat on the bedframe, looking through his backpack. Frisk sits down on the chair near the wall and keeps up the quiet game.

Chief finally finds the packet of tissues and hands one over to her, then sits down on the bed. “Uh…”

“Let’s not.” Frisk says quickly as they blow their nose and dries their cheeks.

Chief breaks a cookie in half, hands one half to Frisk, and then bobs his head up and down a few times before falling back on the bed. “Well what about-“

“No.” Frisk cuts him off as they gingerly chow down on the cookie.

Chief throws his arms up in exasperation and lets them flop down on either end of him. “But I’ve got _so many_ questions!”

“I learned to live with that.” Frisk comments as they finish their half of the cookie. “Do you have a map of the entire Snowdin forest?”

Chief props himself up against the bedframe and opens the front pocket of his backpack, pulling out a faded old map. “Yeah, I do.” He smooths it out on the bed and Frisk hops over. They tap a mark on the eastern side of the map circled in blue crayon with their finger. “What’s that?” They ask.

Chief leans over to see where Frisk is pointing to. “Hmm…” He takes a closer look and nearly bonks his head on Frisk’s. “Let me see…oh! That’s where Toriel said her favorite bug hunting spot is! Right through there!”

Frisk is smiling. “Bug hunting? What kind of place do bugs like?” After a few glances between the map and Frisk, Chief smacks his head. “A warm cave!”

“Right…and a warm cave…leads to…” Frisk says as they tap their chin with their finger and then raise that same finger in realization.

“Waterfall!” Both Chief and Frisk say in unison.

* * *

 It’s only after half an hour that Chief pauses in the middle of doing an inventory of his backpack while Frisk tries on one of his pairs of socks.

“These are too big for my feet…” They look over to Chief and see him pausing in the counting. “What is it?”

“Why are we even doing this?” Frisk adopts a deep frown to that.

“You know why we’re doing this. We want to break the barrier, right?” Chief stares blankly at Frisk.

“You’re kidding. You mean you _really_ didn’t have a plan? You just sort of went with the flow? You really are…” When Chief’s expression hardens expecting a blow, Frisk stops themselves and then finished with “…a cowboy.”

“Huh. I was expecting an insult.” Chief says with a quirked brow. “You sure you didn’t mean to say idiot?”

Frisk shakes their head emphatically. “Maybe, I mean I don’t know- but I’ll try and stop if you try and stop capturing me or tying me up or anything like that. Deal?”

“Deal.” Chief offers his hand and Frisk gets up to shake it carefully, much to Chief’s confusion. “Sorry, I’ve developed a mistrust of handshakes. Bad experiences.” When Chief’s confusion switches to skepticism, Frisk sighs.

“I’ll explain it later. Anyway, what I was saying was…we want to break the barrier right?” Chief interrupts with his arms crossed.

“Why do we want to break the barrier?” Frisk looks at him as if he’s totally crazy, eyes wide like saucers.

“Well, you know why we want to break it! To free the monsters and get them out and…” Frisk lists the reasons one by one with their fingers.

“Why would we want them to leave? It’s really nice down here.” Chief retorts.

“Well…they want to leave!” Frisk says quickly.

“Only because they don’t know what it’s like outside.” Chief deftly and bluntly responds, and that shuts Frisk up.

“You know it’s true.” Chief finally adds to break the silence. Frisk looks down, defeated.

“But it’s the right thing. I want to do the right thing, make things right…” Chief sits up, cross-legged, and puts his hand on his chin.

“I do too, but…hmm. Why don’t we just go back to the ruins with Toriel? I can call ahead of time.” At the mention of Toriel, Frisk’s face drops practically off her head and Chief puts his hands in front of him. “Okay, okay, sorry. I understand. That might not be the right idea.”

“It’s just…let me see how I can explain this…I feel _drawn_ to the barrier, to break it. I need to. Please. If you want…you can just go back and then I’ll do it myself. I won’t hurt you that way, anyway. You can go back…”

“You’re doing the thing again.” Chief remarks simply.

“The thing?”

“I think I get it. You blame yourself for attacking Toriel and you have stuff to work out, so why don’t I help you with it?”

Frisk gapes at Chief.

“I’m serious. Look at it this way- you said it before that I was just a weirdo who pretended to play cowboy,” Frisk mumbles an apology, but Chief waves them off and continues, “…but that playing taught me a lot about real justice. And real justice offers help to those who need it.” He gets up from the bed and thrusts his hand down to where Frisk is sitting, a pile of socks beside them.

“So what do you say, pardner. I’ll help you get to the barrier, and maybe we can convince Asgore to stop what he’s doing. Along the way, you can help me figure out how to think…like a normal person, since like you said I’m all fun and games and no seriousness. Which I agree with. We’ll work for each other and go on an adventure and work things out. Deal?”

Frisk stares at the hand like it’s a burnt marshmallow. “Really? Are you sure you want to do this?” Chief nods once, and adjusts the head on his head to a suitably serious position, provoking a laugh from frisk. They grasp his hand and give him a firm shake.

“Okay…pardner. Just to clarify, we’re _partners_ and I’m definitely not your deputy.”

 Chief shrugs. “Whatever floats your boat, deputy Frisk.”

“Don’t make me regret this.” Frisk groans, but they’re struggling to suppress a smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
